Between Stars
by TheVelvetDusk
Summary: "Hours, days, months - none of it felt relevant to her anymore, not when time travel was real and centuries could rearrange themselves like stars in just the blink of an eye." (TFP)
1. Chapter 1

_a/n : this will eventually qualify as a TFP for January :) It's a post-S1 (shortish) WIP. Enjoy!_

* * *

"Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean…"

Wyatt eyed Lucy warily, but she gave no explanation for that cryptically muttered phrase, just kept trudging along the cracked, trash-strewn sidewalk.

He'd long ago given up on the idea of decoding every little thing she said in moments like this. She had this remarkable habit of unwittingly regurgitating famous and not-so-famous quotes when she was overworked and overwhelmed, uttering the apt words of poets and politicians alike, many of which went straight over his head.

She stumbled over a rutted chunk of concrete and grunted a curse that was swiftly whipped away by the midnight wind. Mean streets, indeed.

Wyatt gripped her arm and pulled her along with him, ducking into a passing doorway and pressing his body against hers for a millisecond of reprieve.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," she hissed between her teeth, her arm shaking riotously inside of his hand. "We shouldn't have stopped."

"I don't hear anything. Haven't for nearly five blocks now."

He was tired, and if _he_ was tired, that spelled far worse for her. Lucy was tough, far tougher than he'd ever expected her to be in the beginning, but this jump was pushing all the wrong buttons. They'd been scurrying like rats along the grimy streets of mid-60s Manhattan for nearly 36 straight hours, and what began as a simple mission to outwit Emma had rapidly unraveled into a complex tangle with a mob-fueled crime war.

So here they were, cut off from Rufus for the better part of an hour now, desperately trying to find their way back to him while simultaneously attempting to outrun Gambino's hired thugs. Or had Lucy said that this was Genovese territory, not Gambino's? It was all starting to blur together for him and he didn't really give two damns at this point. His objective had boiled down to one very basic directive - see a tommy gun, run in the opposite direction. Nothing in his current arsenal could compete with that kind of firepower.

Lucy's eyes were still frantic as she stared past him, her gaze hunting through the inscrutable haze of night. Judging by the thickly encroaching mist, they must have looped back around to the docks by now. The Lifeboat was parked on the other side of the Hudson, a relatively quick trek by way of the Holland Tunnel, and hopefully Rufus was already waiting for them there. That was always the backup plan of all backup plans in a scenario like this - get to the Lifeboat, take cover, and pray that the rest of the team finds their way there too.

Gunshots ricocheted from somewhere above them. Another shootout, this one seemingly raining down from the rooftops. Lucy clutched his jacket and hid her face in his shoulder, shuddering involuntarily with each pop of ammunition that split the city skyline.

"I just want to go home," she whispered into him with a shiver.

"I know, I'm sor -"

"No," Lucy grumbled hastily, straightening up from between his arms, "that line of thinking wasn't helpful at all, so don't bother acknowledging it with a response."

Wyatt offered a weary half-grin, shaking his head with unconcealed admiration. "I'll be busting my ass to get you decorated one of these days, Lucy Preston. Distinguished Civilian Service… Outstanding Civilian Service Award...I don't know what it'll be, but I'm not quitting until you have a big shiny medal."

She laughed dismissively and pushed a loose tendril of hair away from her face. "You're a real riot, you know."

He was a breath away from making a plea of sincerity when another round of bullets ruptured their quiet interlude. This outbreak was closer than before, apparently at street level now and growing louder. It chased the laugher from Lucy's eyes, leaving fresh daggers of terror in its place. Wyatt reached past her and tried the doorknob behind them on nothing but a vague impulse. The knob fell off in his hand, allowing the door to creak open into nothing but dissolving blackness.

"I don't like it," she breathed against his neck.

"Neither do I." There was more gunfire, a groan and a thud, pounding footsteps closing in on them. Wyatt gave her arm a squeeze and shook his head. "I like _that_ even less."

Lucy nodded her agreement, lower lip tucked severely into her teeth. He drew her in with him, never once loosening his hold on her arm, and waited, motionless and painfully alert, until his eyes could adjust to the dim outline of a cavernous room.

His revulsion was immediate. " _Shit_."

She sucked in a harsh breath beside him. "Wyatt - "

"I know," he answered furiously, scanning box after box of contraband artillery. "We're sitting ducks in here...this must be - "

"Supply headquarters," supplied a flat voice from God-knows-where in the endless towers of boxes. The steely click of an unlatching safety echoed in tandem. "Welcome to your final resting place, kids."

Wyatt shoved Lucy to the ground and rolled on top of her, utilizing the momentum to keep them both moving until they had some semblance of coverage in the oncoming barrage of bullets. He seized her shoulders and crushed his forehead to hers, so close he couldn't even see her eyes.

"Stay here."

"But - "

" _Stay_. _Here_. I swear to God, Lucy," he swallowed past the crater-sized well of emotion in his throat and shook his head once, blood rushing past his ears. "Don't move. Please."

He couldn't look at her as he rose to his feet. Every step he put between them was as good as a bullet driven straight through his heart.

* * *

 _to be continued..._

 _also, credit to Raymond Chandler for Lucy's quote at the very beginning of the chapter, as well as helping to inspire the title of the fic._


	2. Chapter 2

It didn't take Wyatt long to procure a gun of his own, not when they'd somehow landed themselves in the mafia equivalent of a fully-stocked armory. It also didn't take him long to work his way through the encircling maze of illegal paraphernalia and locate the monumental asshole who'd opened fire on them. There really wasn't even a contest. His target was lazy and ineffective, barely even able to twist around in time to set his stagnant gaze on Wyatt before there was a bullet sunk straight through his enormous forehead.

If his genius plan had been to scare Lucy and Wyatt away without a fight, then it was a shame the poor slob wouldn't get the opportunity to learn from that colossal mistake.

A scuttling noise - subtle and muffled, but there all the same - rustled from somewhere behind Wyatt. It could have been nothing. Rodents in the duct work, the dull clunk of old pipes, a trick of the wind blasting against the old warehouse…

Deep down, Wyatt was sure that it was none of those things.

"Lucy?" he redoubled his grip on the semi-automatic in his hands and worked to keep the looming tremor out of his voice. "Lucy, are you - "

Something thumped and a tower of boxes near the door threatened to spill over into a rumbling avalanche. There was a muted cry, then nothing.

He was sure that he'd never moved faster, but it still wasn't fast enough.

Her face was starkly white as he came skidding around the corner, a snowy contrast to the raven-colored curls that straggled out of her twisting updo. Those big brown eyes were blown wide with vibrating fear. Her feet dangled loosely, then kicked with a tremendously brave effort, but swiped nothing more than air.

And her mouth...her mouth was open, gasping emptily, airways stifled by the ruthless hand that was locked around her throat and kept her pinned her to the wall.

Her gurgle of another failed breath was one of the worst sounds Wyatt had ever heard.

He hadn't stopped moving, couldn't afford even the slightest pause, just kept on charging toward her like an off-the-track locomotive. His mind registered the impact even if his body could not. He felt nothing as he slammed full-force into her attacker until he heard her limp body crumpling heavily onto the cement floor, and his brain divided into two fragments - the side that needed to go to Lucy _now_ and the side that couldn't entertain another thought until he'd slaughtered the man who'd done this to her.

That moment of indecision cost him. The grease-slicked thug swung up from beneath him with a coiled fist, popping off a quick uppercut to Wyatt's jaw.

To hell with sparing whatever offspring this bastard may have been destined to produce. Wyatt retaliated with the butt of his gun, crunching it down against his opponent's skull with a sickening crack.

And then there was only harrowing silence and his labored breathing. Lucy wasn't moving, wasn't questioning the wisdom of what he'd just done, wasn't uttering so much as a whimper.

Wyatt's hands shook as he dropped to a kneel before her. She was slumped against the wall, head bent at a scary angle, shoulders rising and falling unevenly. His fingertips whispered along her downturned cheek and she whined softly, bones going rigid as she flinched away from him.

"It's me, Lucy. It's just me, okay?"

Her face sagged into his hand in an instant, the fight dissipating from her entire body faster than he could blink.

"I need to - to take a look at..." Tears stung stubbornly in his eyes. He couldn't make the words come out properly. There wasn't a damn thing he could do until he knew if her neck was broken, but he couldn't bear to speak that thought aloud. "I'll be as gentle as I can, alright? Just hang in there, Luce."

There was nothing but a small droning noise of acknowledgement as he moved closer. His thumb moved carefully along her jaw, tipping it up slowly to assess the already darkening bruise that disfigured the column of her neck. He could count the outline of each individual finger that had been wrapped around her windpipe, a sight that had him regretting the all-too-humane manner in which he'd disposed of the dickhead who'd dared to touch her.

"Wy- " her lips parted to form the end of his name, but only a wheezing gasp accompanied the effort. She tried again, that one syllable escaping her with a pained, sandpapery friction. "Wy- …"

"Shh," he soothed on autopilot, wishing he felt even a fraction of the calm that he was hoping to instill in her. "Save your voice, okay? You don't want to make it any worse, sweetheart."

How that last word had slipped out, he couldn't really be sure. They only made reference to those nonsensical pet names from '34 when they were joking around, trying to get each other to laugh with increasingly ridiculous accents until one of them broke.

Not this time, though. There was no joke, no accent, no pretense. He'd meant it.

His heart rattled in his chest as his fingers probed either side of her neck. "Are you able to turn your head for me...just a little, nice and slow…"

She did as asked, eyes flickering open for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Wyatt almost lost himself there, momentarily disarmed by just a glimpse of that warm chocolate gaze as shock-ridden tears began to stream belatedly down her cheeks.

"Good, that's good, Lucy," he said in a whoosh of reassurance, that same damn moisture pricking his eyes again. "Everything feels normal, and…"

Voices clamored from further down the block, followed closely by a deafening round of bullets. They couldn't wait this out much longer. Even though every ounce of first-aid training he'd ever gone through roared in protest, Wyatt was sure that they had no choice. He'd made his decision, all the while cursing any god who would listen for damning them to this seemingly undying game of roulette that yielded no winners.

"...and we probably need to get our asses out of here ASAP, okay?"

She let out a fragile exhale and did her best imitation of a convincing nod.

Wyatt guided her arms around his shoulders and lifted her with him, bracing himself for the worst. "Lucy? Still okay?"

She nodded again, one horribly scratchy word reaching his ears - "m'okay."

He hesitated at the open doorway. One wrong move, a footstep in the wrong direction, and -

A yellow cab screeched its way to the curb, braking rather dramatically with a huff of exhaust pouring out from the tailpipe. It sent Wyatt back around the edge of the doorframe, a fumbling hand already halfway to his holster just when he heard his name cutting through the sooty cloak of night. He kept Lucy tucked against his side and slanted one eye out around the gaping door to look again.

Rufus flagged him down with madcap gusto, leaning halfway out of the car's window and windmilling his arms in Wyatt's direction. Oh thank God, _Rufus_.

Wyatt was there in five long strides, diving into the backseat with Lucy bundled impossibly close against him. "I - I was sure you would have hightailed it off of this godforsaken island by now, man…"

"And leave my team behind?" he said with a grin that was decidedly shaken. "Not a chance."

His gaze plunged lower and lingered over Lucy, fear pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Is she - "

"She'll be fine," Wyatt answered hurriedly, his heart hammering with the nagging possibility that he could be lying through his teeth. "Let's just get out of this goddamn century."

The taxi driver's eyebrow ticked upward in the rearview mirror, but Wyatt didn't bother to retract that statement as Rufus doled out the directions that would deliver them from this little pocket of historical hell. He kept his cheek pressed to the top of Lucy's head and watched the streets smudge together beneath grainy streetlights until Manhattan had dissolved away into a distant nightmare.

* * *

 _a/n: see, that didn't take too long did it? And more is on the way! Thank you for all the wonderful reviews on chapter 1 :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_a/n : I plan to just keep cranking these out - short and sweet and quick - so here's #3!_

* * *

"This is a waste of time. You said it's not broken. She knows it's not broken. Hell, even _I_ know it's not broken. What's the point of waiting on the x-ray results to confirm it?"

Wyatt continued to survey the floor of the med bay, his face as stony and drawn under the fluorescent lights as it had been since they'd landed back at Mason Industries. "You shouldn't be talking, Lucy."

She rolled her eyes and forced her froggy voice back into action. "I'm not going to stop until you answer the question, so - "

"It's a neck injury, which is not something to screw around with even if there's no obvious fracture. Any one of my guys would be grounded under these circumstances unless they had full medical clearance. Even a mild sprain or minor nerve damage could escalate into something much worse if you aren't careful."

"Yeah, but I feel fine," she croaked out petulantly.

The barest of smirks danced over his face before he beat it down into submission. "That's the codeine talking."

"Oh, so the codeine is allowed to talk but not _me_."

"The codeine doesn't sound like it's voice box has been through a blender," he said abruptly, arms crossing and face angled stubbornly toward the floor.

Silence enveloped the room. The tension became unbearable to her. She knew he wasn't angry with anyone but himself, but she felt it all the same, the throbbing ache of his frustration beating noisily at the same frequency as her walloping headache.

"Quit that."

His head whipped up to face her, eyes excruciatingly bloodshot as he squinted at her from his post at the door. "Quit what?"

Lucy closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the wall behind her, gripping the edges of the medical table as she experimentally swiveled her chin from one side to the other. "Brooding so loudly. They can probably feel those reverberations in Reno."

"Brooding is a silent activity."

"Not the way you do it. You're going to grind your teeth down to the gums if you don't chill out."

He seemed unimpressed with that diagnosis. "You know what else is supposed to be silent? _You_. No unnecessary talking, remember? You need to rest your vocal cords."

She grunted noncommittally before allowing one side of her mouth to turn up in a delicate grin, eyes returning to his. "I don't know what's up with that long face of yours, anyhow...you've been wanting me to rest my vocal cords since the damn Hindenburg."

Wyatt's smile came slowly, unbidden, then blossomed into a reluctant chuckle. "And now I have an actual medical expert on my side. Funny how that works, huh?"

"Hilarious," she muttered idly. "So if I stop talking, you stop brooding. Deal?"

Harsh lines of torment reappeared around his mouth. "Easier said than done."

Lucy waited with fingertips pressed to her temples until a phantom bout of dizziness subsided. "It was my turn. You took a bullet in 1865. Al Capone almost killed Rufus in '47. It's only fair that - "

"There's nothing fair about any of this," he spat out vehemently.

She watched him for a long moment, heart grieved at the profound sadness worn so plainly in everything he said and did, a haunting trademark of the man she'd met at the beginning of this whole mess. It pained her to see that hopeless fragment of his soul working its way back to the surface now.

"You saved my life today, Wyatt."

He looked away, fists balling up at his sides. "Sure, this time. Barely."

"Many, _many_ times," she asserted automatically. "Too many times to count. You know that's true."

"I should have known better than to leave you alone in there. I don't like close calls."

"Rather that than the alternative, don't you think?"

He exhaled wearily and lifted his woeful blue gaze back to hers. "Lucy - "

"Come here, please."

Wyatt's frown deepened. He didn't move.

She ran her fingers along the line of her neck and sighed. "If you won't come to me, I'll just climb down from this exam table and go to you instead."

He was in front of her in a fraction of a second, a thread of aggravation dangling in his eyes. "That was an empty threat, wasn't it?"

Lucy reached for him, hand on his jaw, thumb caressing his cheek. "You'll never know now, will you?"

She didn't give him the opportunity to answer. She wrapped her other arm around his shoulders and scooted close enough to brush her forehead to his.

"Thank you for coming to my rescue," she breathed out quietly, feeling the hard set of his stiff muscles relax little by little. "Thank you for always being there when I need you."

He pursed his lips and swallowed, eyes glassy as his hand meandered up into her hair. His mouth parted, but the door whooshed open before he could speak, leaving Lucy with the irrational urge to shoo the doctor back out into the hallway for as long as it took to get through whatever Wyatt had been gearing up to say.

No such luck. The doctor came striding in with x-ray images in hand, already relaying a chirpy deluge of information before Wyatt could fully extract himself from Lucy's hold.

She watched him as he slid backward against the wall, relief easing over his grave lines of worry as Doctor Briggs delivered nothing but good news. There were no indicators of a real fracture, just some very minor inflammation, mild trauma to the larynx, a deep contusion that would heal all on its own… And no reason to suspect any permanent damage.

So with a recommendation for plenty of rest, hydration, a few extra tablets of codeine, and a general warning against too much exertion, Lucy was free to go as long as she had a ride home.

"She does," Wyatt answered without a moment's delay. "Thanks, doc."

* * *

 _hit me up in that lil box below if you feel so inclined :)_


	4. Chapter 4

_a/n : thanks for all the faves/follows/reviews :) I seriously love my Timeless friends so so much & can't wait to bond EVEN MORE when Season 2 rolls out yayyyyyyyyyyyyy_

I am thriving on all the behind the scenes stuff getting posted to instagram lately, but for now, here's some more fic to help fill the void :)

* * *

Lucy blinked awake in the wispy light of a street lamp shining through the window and touched a hand to her throat, swallowing with just a twinge of irritation. The awareness of another body lying next to her seeped through her blurred consciousness a beat later. She shifted her head higher on her pillow and let a lazy smile flit over her mouth at the sight before her.

Wyatt was flopped limply across the top of her comforter, still fully dressed in all but shoes and looking damn near angelic while he slept there undisturbed. He'd mostly contained himself to one side to the mattress other than the hand that was clasped securely to her arm. It was almost as if he'd been reaching out to reassure himself that she was still there, then hadn't bothered to let go once he'd found her.

A physical pang reverberated through her. She had a vague memory of Wyatt leading her in here, patiently helping her as she stumbled around the apartment in a bit of a medicated-fog, but she definitely hadn't expected him to stay the night once he had her safely settled in.

Lucy carefully extracted her arm from his hold and slipped out from under the sheets. She didn't move again until she was sure that he was still fast asleep, then stole across the room to find an extra quilt to drape over him. She wasn't surprised that he'd refrained from tucking himself in next to her like...like it was normal for him to share her bed for the night. As appealing as that idea might have been, she'd like to be somewhat cognizant of what was going on if _that_ ever happened. But that didn't mean he should have to suffer through the inhumanity of sleeping with no blankets at all, though.

She smirked to herself, thinking of the way he'd scoff at her if he knew where her head was at right now. His threshold for discomfort was in a whole different stratosphere than hers. Quilt or no quilt, he could find a way to sleep soundly if he willed himself to do so. That didn't stop her from covering him with one anyway.

With that task completed, Lucy found herself decidedly awake in spite of the grainy predawn hour. She ambled into the bathroom, took one look at the cruel bruise eclipsing most of her neck, then made a point of studiously avoiding the mirror until she was out of range again. Her feet carried her out into the narrow hallway where her purse rested against the front door, a sure sign of Wyatt's fingerprint. She never left it there, seeing as leaving _anything_ too close to her front door was a dangerous invitation for her inner-klutz to make an appearance. He must have carried it in for her and then not known what to do with it.

That mental image had her smiling softly to herself.

She shuffled to the door to retrieve the bag, fingers automatically scooping inside for her cell phone, figuring that it had to be dead by now and that she should probably plug it in before she went back to bed. Astonishingly enough, the screen lit up all too brightly once she had it in hand, somehow proving to still be halfway charged as it blindingly flashed the date and time up at her.

Her eyes adjusted and her mouth went dry. A well-accustomed melancholy nipped at her heart as she processed another displaced landmark in this strange purgatory of a year.

Today was her birthday.

It had snuck up on her without any warning. Hours, days, months - none of it felt relevant to her anymore, not when time travel was real and centuries could rearrange themselves like stars in just the blink of an eye. Every day of _this_ reality, the one where she held history in her fingertips and her old life felt like nothing but a suspended dream, was just a snapshot of hallowed-out absence. There was no Amy, no trace of the father who'd raised her, no sick mom; she had nothing but an infinite minefield of reordered confusion.

And in spite of all her best attempts at dissociation, life had happened anyway. It was 3:49 in the morning, one bleak winter day had folded into another, and she was another year older.

"Lucy? You okay?"

The gravelly rumble of Wyatt's voice should have scared the hell out of her. Under normal circumstances, she probably would have reflexively hurled her phone at his face if he snuck up on her like that. Instead she merely shook her thoughts loose and tipped her head up to meet his sleepy gaze. He'd propped himself up in the nearest archway, looking rumpled and heavy-lidded and way too adorable.

And concerned. Beneath the crinkling fatigue, he was very, very concerned.

"I'm fine," she returned with some effort, unexpectedly grateful for the thick rasp that weighted her words. If he didn't believe her - and he surely wouldn't - she had a vocal injury to use as her built-in excuse for why she wasn't overly convincing. "Sorry to wake you."

"We didn't get another call already, did we?" At her pathetically blank look, he gestured to the phone in her hand. "Do they need us at Mason?"

"Oh, no I...I just thought I should charge it. Just in case."

He lifted a solitary brow, but mercifully didn't choose to push any further on the topic of her phone. "How's your neck? You're safe to take another dose of the good stuff if it's bothering you."

Lucy shook her head with a thin smile. "It's not bothering me. I don't know what woke me up, but it wasn't that."

His eyes stayed on her, studying her so intently that she was a half-second away from physically squirming under his scrutiny.

"Really, Wyatt. I'm fi - "

Her assurance was cut short as she yawned into her hand, not missing his faint grin when he began to nudge her back into the bedroom.

"You're fine, got it." His touch was a potent blend of firm and gentle, tracing low over her back as he steered her past him. "Even so, the doc recommended plenty of rest, did she not? It's high time you quit violating orders, ma'am."

"Is this why you stayed? Couldn't pass up the opportunity to boss me around while I'm down and out?"

He caught the glimmer of amusement playing at her lips and rolled his eyes in response. "Sure, 'cuz God knows you don't usually listen to a word I say under other circumstances."

"Pleading the fifth on that." Lucy sank down onto the mattress and was surprised to feel a sturdy wave of exhaustion settle over her once more. "You couldn't have been comfortable sleeping on top of the covers like that. And in jeans. Jeans suck."

"Is that an invitation to strip down and climb in with you?"

She closed her eyes with a bashful smile, gingerly turning her head to the side in hopes that she could mask her reaction from him. "I just feel bad that you're stuck here babysitting me."

"That would make sense if I felt stuck or considered this to be babysitting, neither of which are even remotely true." The mattress sloped a little with Wyatt's weight, his voice lulling her with the rhythm of its low, inherent melody. The heat of his body radiated over her skin and she instinctively moved closer to it...closer to him. His arm looped over her, cautiously at first, then becoming far more steadfast once her forehead had drifted against his shoulder. "Trust me when I say that this is as much for my sake as it is for yours."

That was a loaded statement if she'd ever heard one. Lucy laid a hand to the fixed point of his persistent heartbeat. "I'm glad you're here."

His weighty sigh filtered through the crown of her hair. He didn't speak for some time, and when he finally did, she was so close to dozing off that she almost didn't catch it. "You scared the hell out of me today, Lucy. I...I can't go through that again. Not with you too."

She knew that she'd be inspecting this entire conversation with far more painstaking attention once she was feeling up to it; for now, her only impulse was to slide her arm around his middle and keep him anchored to her.

If she wasn't mistaken, a slippery track of moisture rained down from above and tumbled into her hair right as sleep came to claim her.


	5. Chapter 5

_a/n: Alright, friends. Only one chapter to go after this one! As always, thank you for the support! I'd love to say that authors really just write for themselves, but there is *nothing* like hearing back from readers :) You guy are awesome!_

* * *

She wasn't moving, not yet. Her head was heavy, limbs bolted down, eyes pleasantly sealed shut. She'd slept hard and she wasn't ready for it to be over, not when true relaxation was so hard for her to come by these days.

But her nose...her nose was stubbornly awake with the temptation of something rich and strong, and that was her eventual undoing.

Lucy sat up with a groan of opposition, staggered for the door and grabbed her robe from its hook, then crept out into the hall with a bewildered frown. She didn't have an automatic timer on her coffee pot or anything like that, and yet that fragrant smell was unmistakable, so...

It took only one glimpse of a broad set of shoulders and his ruffled brown hair for her head to catch up to her nose. It was that horrific jump to New York, her much too up-close-and-personal encounter with the mob, and one hell of an ugly injury that had resulted in an unexpected - but definitely not unwelcome - overnight guest. Wyatt sat at the kitchen table with his back to her, a rush of morning light dancing over him through the parted blinds, a steaming mug in hand as he scanned the parking lot below.

And of course her silent observation ended there, because he'd noted her arrival without needing to turn around and see it for himself. "Mornin', sunshine."

"That - " she put a hand over her mouth at the horrible squawking sound in her throat, then went on with as much dignity as she could muster, " - that coffee smells like heaven."

Wyatt twisted in his chair and regarded her with an apologetic look. "Then I hate to be the one to tell you that you aren't having any of it."

"What?!"

That time she really was squawking, and not just because of last night's vice grip to the voice box.

"Sorry, ma'am. No caffeine for a few days."

She padded over to the table and dropped into the chair across from him with a scowl. "Says who?"

"Says the internet," he replied matter of factly, then quickly amended that answer at the sound of her unconvinced grunt, " _and_ Doctor Briggs too, in a roundabout way. Coffee dehydrates you. Same goes for alcohol. That's the opposite of what you need right now."

"Oh my God, you're trying to kill me," she muttered pathetically, shielding her face with her hands.

Wyatt's hand scooped over her shoulder and massaged gently. "That's the last thing I'm trying to do."

His solemn voice nipped at her memory, unearthing a few other suspiciously meaningful remarks that he'd made in the last several hours. Lucy peered up at him slowly, a little spellbound by his touch and their proximity and the startling ease of waking up to the picture of Wyatt making himself at home in her kitchen.

"So I'm guessing tea is out too?" she asked quietly.

"Not exactly. Ginger tea is actually supposed to be great for your voice."

She felt her face scrunching up of its own accord. "I don't have ginger tea and I'm not sure I want to have it either."

"I know," he said with an amused grin. "Already checked. I'll go pick some up for you, just didn't want to take off until you were up."

"Oh." She faltered momentarily, unsure of her ability to string together another sentence at that kind offer. "You, um - you don't have to - "

He cut her off with a disarming flash of dimples. "Yeah, well I'm doing it anyway. I need to stop off at my place for a shower and some clean clothes, then I'll be back. Will you be alright here by yourself for a little while?"

"Yeah, but I don't want to monopolize your whole -"

"You aren't. And before I forget, I'm supposed to ask if you think you'll be feeling up to having some company later?" His hand fell away as he leaned back to observe her expression with hawk-like concentration. "Rufus and Jiya were hoping to pop in at some point, but I told them I'd check with you first. They'll understand if you'd rather wait another day or two."

"Sure, I don't care. As long as they don't mind listening to this awful bullfrog sound that is my voice right now."

"It's not awful," he said straightaway, his gaze so insistently blue. "You're sure, though? You don't have any other plans tonight...or, you know, something else going on?"

Lucy narrowed her eyes, suddenly sensing that this strange cross-examination was about something other than her physical well being. She could have really used a cup of that damn coffee to shake the rust from her brain right about now. "My neck is one giant bruise and I practically need subtitles to be understood. What else could I possibly have going on tonight? Even if I had other plans, I'd be cancelling them."

"Right, okay," Wyatt answered with an indifferent shrug. "Just wanted to be sure."

It wasn't until he was gone - after convincing her to eat some scrambled eggs and almost forcing a codeine tablet and about a gallon of water down her throat - that the truth hit her like a right hook to the temple. She stared at the door for several dreadful seconds once he'd left, desperately trying to talk herself out of it, but no… she knew that he knew. _They_ knew. Just a few more hours of sleep had generously knocked it from her mind until now, but oh God, somehow they'd figured it out on their own.

They were going to demand that she celebrate her damn birthday.


	6. Chapter 6

_a/n: this is it, the last chapter :) Thanks for bearing with me through all of these little parts along the way...sometimes it honestly feels like these fics have a mind of their own._

* * *

Wyatt's errands had eaten up much more of the day than he would have liked, but the added pressure of also pulling together some semblance of a birthday party in just a handful of hours certainly hadn't been on his original agenda. Between fielding a myriad of ridiculous phone calls from Rufus - Would a custom banner be too much? Should the cake be chocolate or vanilla? Did Lucy have any food allergies? - and attempting to figure out his own game plan for a suitable gift, the rest of his tasks had almost fallen by the wayside.

She'd watched him closely when he finally returned to her apartment late that afternoon, peering at his collection of grocery bags with a suspicious wariness. "That looks like a whole lot more than ginger tea."

"I'm staging an intervention. This kitchen is emptier than a tin can in the desert, ma'am."

Lucy scoffed, hip jutting against the cabinets as he unloaded groceries onto the countertop. "I can fend for myself just fine."

"Woman cannot live on takeout alone," he said with a wink.

Lucy was taking a few disdainful sips of homemade ginger root tea when the birthday ambush landed less than an hour later, and given the easy barometer of her half-assed poker face, Wyatt could tell that she'd anticipated their plan and was only pretending to be stunned by the sudden outpouring of attention and fanfare. He willingly took a backseat to Rufus and Jiya's antics, intercepted more than one flute of champagne before Lucy could throw herself headlong into a splurge of rebellious indulgence, and did everything he could to keep his mind - and his eyes - off of the sullen purple wreath of a bruise on her neck.

And when that wasn't working anymore, he'd retreated to the opposite end of the room like a damn coward.

"Hey, you've been over here 'getting drinks' for like ten minutes," Jiya complained with a teasing lilt threaded through her words. "What gives? I could have brewed my own beer in the amount of time it's taking you to make it back from the refrigerator."

Wyatt ignored the question at hand, inwardly cursed himself for not noticing that she'd wandered off in his direction, and kept staring defiantly into the fridge. "Do you think she's having fun? I'm still not sure she really wanted to do this."

"I think all of her birthday anxiety disappeared in a heartbeat when she unwrapped that old-fashioned record player. I'm still not sure how you managed to pull that one off in just a few hours. Pretty quick thinking for a guy who didn't have a clue it was her birthday."

"If knowing your friends' birthdays requires a Facebook account these days, I'd rather be in the dark," he muttered indignantly.

She stepped closer, keeping her tone low so the words wouldn't carry across the room. "You're upset that Lucy didn't tell you."

Wyatt pondered that statement for a moment, searching it out and finding it to be lacking. "No, not really. I've been there, ya know. Birthdays, holidays...they're only good for reminding you of what you've lost. I wouldn't have brought it up either if I were her."

"So what is it, then? Because something's definitely up with you."

"I…" he almost shrugged off her concern, but once he stood taller and met her knowing look, there was no chance of denying it. "I don't know, I guess it's just a wake up call or something. Our lives are all so intertwined, but then something like this happens and it's just...I don't know, _weird_. Like I should have just known it was her birthday without you guys seeing it online."

"But that's - "

"Irrational? I'm aware."

Jiya shot him a sympathetic look, her mouth pursed to one side for a long moment. "Just a shot in the dark here, but that's the shared trauma talking. You guys had to blow past all the normal get-to-know-you stuff in a nanosecond if you were going to survive those first few jumps. Now you care about her as far, _far_ more than just a teammate - don't even bother telling me otherwise - and it feels like you're playing catch up to learn about the person she is outside of all this."

Wyatt turned away to watch Lucy and Rufus flipping through a stack of vintage records from across the room, mentally testing Jiya's theory with a bit of reluctant acceptance. "Shared trauma, huh? You're starting to sound an awful lot like my MFLC counselor."

"I don't know what the hell those letter stand for, but I did get an A in my college psych class."

He returned his attention to her with a slow grin. "Yeah, I believe that for sure. This entire conversation wouldn't be happening unless you were using some kind of mental health black magic on me."

"Either I have a superhuman ability to compel stoic military men to talk," she replied with a hint of laughter, "... _or_ these feelings of yours have been quietly simmering on the back burner for weeks now, and it all started boiling over as soon as you were faced with the reality of losing her last night. And in my professional opinion, I'd go with number two as the more likely explanation for this sudden candor of yours."

"How much is your professional opinion going to cost me? Do you bill directly or can I set up some kind of payment plan?"

"And now you're using humor to deflect from the emotional gravity of this situation." Jiya crossed her arms and shook her head with a dry smile. "I suppose we'll have to save that issue for our next session."

Wyatt rolled his eyes and handed over a well-deserved beer. "I guess I'll have to pencil you in. Thanks, doc."

She merely accepted the drink with a grin and ambled off toward Rufus and Lucy, joining them on the floor as they reviewed the mixed bag of records that Wyatt had haggled into the deal. Stopping at the tiny antique dealer a few blocks from his place had been a Hail Mary of a plan, but he'd known he'd struck gold as soon as laid eyes on that funky little record player. It effortlessly ticked the boxes of both history and music, two of Lucy's favorite things, in one clean sweep. If only all the other jagged pieces of their lives could fall into place as easily as _that_.

Lucy caught him watching, and instead of waving him over like he'd expected her to do, she pushed herself up to her feet and came over to him instead. "I'm getting a little fresh air. Wanna join?"

"Sure," he answered immediately, not having to think twice about an offer like that. He followed her out through the sliding balcony door and propped his arms against the banister, keeping his face angled toward hers even with the competing view of a distant San Francisco sprawled out before them. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just wanted a chance to say thank you."

"Oh, this was really more of a Rufus and Jiya thing." She eyed him uncertainly before opening her mouth to respond, but he was overcome with a flicker of doubt and cut back in, still a little convinced that this had all been too much too soon. "I promise that I told them to keep it lowkey, and those damn confetti poppers are hardly my idea of lowkey, but you know how - "

"Wyatt," she interrupted hoarsely with a hand to his forearm, "the party is great, but I meant the present. I was thanking you for my present."

"You already thanked me for that."

She shook her head, lips quirking up with a solemn-eyed smile. "Not properly."

Lucy was on her toes then, leaving a sweet kiss on his cheek before folding herself against him. He circled his arms around her and sank easily into the embrace, closing his eyes with the weight of his gratitude - gratitude that she'd ever appeared in his orbit to begin with, gratitude that she was okay...

Gratitude that today was a celebration of her life when just a few more seconds delay in that goddamn warehouse could have resulted in the exact opposite.

"So," he murmured falteringly into her hair, "all things considered, did this birthday totally suck or were we able to salvage it just a little?"

"I'd say it was salvaged a lot. There's one thing that could still make it better, though."

Wyatt peeled himself away from her, his arms not quite relinquishing their hold as he backed up enough to meet her eyes. "I'm listening."

"If I got one birthday wish - you know, an attainable one that didn't require a time machine or the use of federal law enforcement…"

Only in their world could such ridiculous stipulations be stated so literally. "Yes?"

"Well...I mean, you and I...it seemed like you wanted us to take a step forward, uh, _together_. And sometimes I think that…"

"That what, Luce?" He was biting back a chuckle at the roundabout path she was taking, and if her returning glare was anything to go by, he was failing to properly conceal his amusement.

She lifted a shoulder and let it drop. "You did sleep in my bed last night, you know."

"Oh, I definitely know," he hummed with a suggestive smile.

"Very innocently, of course."

"Yeah, about that..." he swiped a thumb across her cheek and shook his head slowly, "it was _mostly_ innocent. There's a reason I deserted to the kitchen before you were awake."

Her eyes widened, a raspy groan emanating from her throat. "Did I do something embarrassing? I have a tendency to suffocate people. I'm - "

"You weren't the problem," he interrupted with a smirk.

"Oh." Lucy's head tilted to the side as she regarded him carefully. " _Oh_."

"Yeah. So let me give you one last birthday gift, okay? No more beating around the bush." He let go of her entirely, drawing a deep breath and assembling any scrap of clarity he could summon. "I know you're the one who's been through the wringer lately, but I've been a damn basket case about all of this in case you haven't noticed. You're so important to me, Lucy...too important to put off this conversation any longer."

"You're important to me too," she replied softly.

Wyatt nodded, an unfamiliar restlessness taking flight in his stomach. "Sometimes this all feels...alarmingly temporary. It's hard enough knowing that any jump could be the one where the worst happens and we don't all make it home in one piece, but…"

Lucy reached for him, tucking her hand into his and squeezing it tightly. "But what? What could possibly be worse than that?"

"That one day it's really all over and that's it," he answered without pause. "This weird in-between phase of straddling two timelines ends for good, our lives go back to normal, we move on. You return to your job and your family, and I - "

"Wyatt - "

"I...I want you to be in my life beyond this crazy time travel thing. I want to be there when Amy's back. I want to celebrate all of your birthdays from here on out."

Her eyebrows creased together, hair tossing emphatically from side to side as she shook her head. "That's - "

"But this mission has taken so much from you, Lucy. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to wipe out the whole experience and pretend that none of it ever -"

" _Wyatt_." Her hands moved to clamp around his shoulders, almost as if she was going to shake the life out of him if he didn't let her talk this time. "I could never do that, okay? There's no such thing as going back to normal after this. If normal means letting go of you, I want nothing to do with it."

"Huh." He shifted a step closer. "You sound pretty sure about that."

She looked as if she was caught somewhere in the chasm between tears and laughter. "It's almost like I'm on the one who initiated this conversation."

"Sure...very indirectly and with lots of incomplete sentences, but - "

"Stop trying to steal my credit," Lucy said with a thump to his shoulder, "and on my birthday, no less…"

Wyatt leaned down and swept his lips against the inviting curve of her teasing smile, gratified beyond measure to feel her body fusing soundly with his, her arms looping up around his neck and her mouth nudging against his with a shy returning pressure that had his whole head spinning.

"There," he murmured against her parted lips, "at least I get credit for _that_."

Her fingernails feathered into his hair as she stole a shaky breath. "Lots of credit. Maybe even extra credit."

"Enough to pass the course, professor?"

Her coy smile spiked through him like a jolt of pure adrenaline. "I don't know...we should probably try it again just to be sure."

"Alright, one more. But don't get too carried away on me, babydoll. I'm not getting in trouble with Doctor Briggs if you overexert - "

Those nails of hers dug into him, propelling him in for another dynamite kiss, and he grinned against her mouth, finding himself incredibly turned on by her ruthless impatience.

"Come on," he muttered through a barely subdued groan. "I don't want to share you anymore. The sooner we eat the cake, the sooner they leave."

Lucy stopped short, the first trace of early evening stars reflecting in her cinnamon eyes. "There's cake?"

"Of course there's cake," he said with a kiss to her forehead. "It's not a birthday unless there's cake."

"In my experience, it's _also_ not a birthday without a glass of champagne."

"Lucy…"

"Just a sip?" she asked with a pout that would surely bring him to ruin. "Please?"

"Fine. One sip." He snuck another kiss to her cheek before she could make it back through the door, then pinned her with a no-nonsense look. "But no funny business, ma'am. I'll be watching you."

In the end, Lucy's persuasive pout earned her at least three long sips of that damn champagne until he could finally bring himself to make good on his word and snatch it away from her. Wyatt may have eventually won that battle, but when the celebration had quieted down and Rufus and Jiya had said their goodnights, he found that Lucy's idea of an after-party involved some _serious_ overexertion… the type of overexertion that had him feeling absolutely powerless when faced with the notion of telling her no. That battle was indisputably hers to win.

* * *

 _a/n: I feel like that last sentence should have ended with a wink, so here it is as a special p.s. - ;)_

 _As for the TFP contest, I was initially going for "_ _There's just one thing Lucy wants for her birthday…" but then I wasn't sure if I had incorporated that one clearly enough to qualify, so I tossed in "It's not a birthday unless there's cake" for safe measure._ _THANKS FOR READING._


End file.
